Aftershock
by Quicksilver19
Summary: Chloe and Whitney fic... day of Whitney's dad's funeral. Chloe figures out that Clark's with Lana. Whitney needs someone to talk to...
1. Chapter 1

Aftershock

Note: This is really AU so don't get mad at me… : ) 

I hate Lana Lang. Well, I don't _hate_ hate her. But I hate her. If that makes any sense. She always has everything. Popularity, looks, Clark's attention and Whitney. Yes, I said Whitney. Whitney Fordman. The all-American, popular, good-looking, jock that I am in love with. I know I'm not supposed to be and I try not to be. I mean, no one knows. I'm always writing horrible stuff about him and his friends in the Torch but I don't really mean it… I can't help it… 

Anyway, I try not to think about it. Not at all. Because if I do, it makes me depressed because both guys that I'm in love with love Lana Lang. Which is why I hate her… 

"It's a sad thing when a man passes away, leaving a wife and a kid," dad was saying. 

I nod, not really listening. I'm too busy cutting out stuff from the newspaper for my wall of weird. There was a lot today. 

"If your mother were here, she'd be crying her heart out for them," he continued softly, taking a drink of his coffee. 

My sight blurs and I cut off the top of an article. "Damn!" I yell. It wasn't a big deal. I could just tape it together. But the smallest mention of my mother still throws me right off… 

Annabelle Marie Sullivan. Annie, my father called her. She'd died after a long fight with cancer in Metropolis. That was why we moved here. The slightest reminder of her used to send me to my room in tears for hours. I was sent to counselling after I started flunking out of stuff at school and doing stuff I wasn't supposed to do… They suggested to my father that we move out of Metropolis. So he put in for a transfer when the plant opened in Smallville and now I was here… sitting in my kitchen, discussing Mr. Fordman. 

"We should go to the funeral…" 

I blink and look up at my father. "Sorry, what?" 

"We should go to the funeral," he repeats. 

"Why?" 

He butters a piece of toast and slid it in front of me. "Because it's respectful to go." 

I grimace and push the toast away. "But I didn't know Mr. Fordman…"

"Don't you go to school with his son?" He picks up the toast and takes a bite, watching me as he chewed. 

I shrug. "Sure, but we're not close or anything." 

"It's this afternoon at five. I'll come by after work and pick you up at four-thirty." He picks up his briefcase and goes out into the pouring rain. 

'How fitting,' I think, watching the drops of water roll down the glass as my father's black truck pulls away. I don't want to go to the funeral. First of all because I didn't know Mr. Fordman, secondly, I do know Lana was going to be there. And Clark. And I know that emotional trauma brings people together. And I really didn't want to see that. Especially since Whitney was going to be there and he shouldn't have to see that either. His and Lana's relationship had been on the rocks lately. They're 'taking a break' right now… he shouldn't have to see that. Especially since I saw them together the other day and they looked pretty chummy.


	2. Chapter 2

Around two, while I pick at a sandwich and debating how I was going to get out of going, the phone rings. I pick it up, 

"Hello?" 

"Chlo, I'm stuck here in Metropolis and won't be home until tomorrow night. We have meetings all today and tomorrow. Can you get a ride with Clark?" 

I groan. "Daaad… Do I still have to go?" Sure, I feel bad for Whitney but I don't think my presence would make him feel better… 

He sighs on the other end. "Chloe, it's respectful. Mr. Fordman was a good friend to us when we first moved here. I need you to go. And maybe this will help you deal with your mother's passing. The therapist-"

I cut him off. "Fine. I'll go." I hang up, trying not to be angry. I don't care what the therapist said. They're all a bunch of phonies anyway… Trudging up to my room, I phone Clark as I sift through my stuff to find a nice outfit to wear. 

"Hello?" He sounds happier than usual. I wonder what's up.

"Hey Clark." 

"Hey Chloe, what's up?" 

"I was wondering if you could-" I hear giggling. Female giggling. "Clark?" 

"Uh, yeah?" He sounds preoccupied. 

"I was wondering if you could give me a ride to the funeral," I say quickly, eyes narrowed. 

"Sure. I'll pick you up around four-thirty." 

"Thanks Clark." 

"Sure, Chloe. See you then." This time I'm sure of it. Female giggles in the background. Sounding a lot like Lana… 

"Bye, Clark." 

"Bye Chloe." 

I hang up, feeling dread sink in. 

I'm standing watching the casket being lowered into the cold wet ground. I'm almost crying and I don't know why. I didn't know him, I only saw the man once or twice in my life, and it's not as if Whitney and I are best friends. 

Whitney. He's standing with his mother and Lana, his face stony and full of pain. For the first time I don't see any arrogance or cockiness in his face. Only sadness and a tremendous weight. Every shield had been striped away. 

Clark and Lana are giving each other looks across the grave and I can't stand it. It makes me want to cry even more. It's a stupid trivial thing to think about when you're standing at a funeral but I couldn't help it. How could they be so horrible? Whitney's father has just died… and they're making googly eyes at each other? 

The coffin has reached the bottom, the priest was done reading, and he closes his book and starts for the church. People start leaving but I can't move. Just staring into that grave brings back the memory of my own mother's funeral. It wasn't cold or rainy on the day of her funeral, rather sunny and happy. This seems more fitting though. I wish it had rained. When she'd been laid to rest, we'd just stood there, watching it being lowered and thinking I'd never see her face again, never smell the smell of her hair again, never feel her arms around me when I've had a bad day. 

Someone puts their hand on my shoulder. "Chloe?" 

I turn. "Cla-" But it's not him. It's Whitney Fordman with a flat look on his face. I quickly wipe my face free of tears. It doesn't matter, he wouldn't notice.  

"Do you need a ride home?" he asks. 

I sniffle and look around the empty graveyard. Everyone is going home but us two. "Yeah, I guess I do… Clark was supposed to but…" I gestured to the emptiness around us helplessly. "I guess he left." 

"Yeah, he drove Lana home," he replied stonily. 

I flinched and he grimaced. 

"We're quite the pair," he said finally. 

I nodded, the tears welling up again so I looked down at my shoes. They're muddy. 

He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." 

That makes my head shoot up. "Why?"

"Because of Clark… and Lana. She's really driven. When she wants something, she gets it." 

"I know." But the tears won't stop and I feel like world's biggest idiot. 

"Hey, it's okay." I give him a withering look and he shrugs. "First thing that popped into my head. Sorry." He took my arm at the elbow. "I'll give you a ride home…" 

I follow him to his truck and climb in as he holds the door open for me. I watch as he shuts the door and walks around to climb into the driver's seat. 

He starts the engine and a rock station blares out. He clicks it off quickly and the cab is filled with an awkward silence as we start down the road. Finally, I can't take it anymore and reach out, turning it back on. 

He shoots me a startled look then his eyes go quickly back to the road. 

We continue on in silence. 

The radio, the regular swish-swish of the windshield wipers, the warmth in the cab, and just Whitney and I, alone together sends me off into fantasies of he and I actually being a couple, which would never happen… It was stupid, I know. Because we would never, could never. We hate each other. Well, he hates me at least. After all those articles who wouldn't…

And yet. 

And yet we were sitting together, alone in his truck outside my house. 

I didn't even realize that we'd pulled up. And how did he know where I lived anyway? 

"You're here," he says in the same flat tone of voice. 

I look over. He's sitting, hands relaxed on the wheel, staring sightlessly out into the rain. 

I want to hug him. I want to take him home and take care of him. "You want to come in for coffee or something?" I ask, shocked as the words come out. 

He shrugs. "Sure. Whatever." 


	3. Chapter 3

'What am I doing?' I ask myself as my back hits the front hall wall. My hands are grabbing the buttons of Whitney's shirt, undoing them quickly. His jacket and tie are already in a pile in the hall, next to our shoes and my jacket. Last button, okay. The wet material slides off, revealing a soaked white beater shirt and yummy muscles. God, I can't believe that I just said yummy...  
  
He stops kissing me for a second to pull my shirt over my head, then his soft lips are back on mine.   
  
Suddenly I'm shy. I want my shirt back. What if I'm not skinny enough? What if my arms are too weak, my abs not defined enough and my chest too small? I must have pulled away fractionally because so does he and looks me in the eye.   
  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I just... it's just... I'm sorry..." He's breathing hard and backs away until his back hits the opposite wall. "I'll go..." He turns and leans down to grab his shirt.   
  
"No!" I half yell, freezing him in his tracks. He turns and I blush. "I mean... well, it's just..." I can't say it. I cross my arms self-consciously over my chest.   
  
"What?" he says, getting the cool and aloof tone back in his voice. "Just what, Chloe? You can't have anything to do with football players or your I.Q. will drop? You can't taint yourself with a jock's dirt?"   
  
I shook my head, confused. "No..." But the rest of the words stuck in my mouth. I just couldn't say it.   
  
"Football players not good enough for you?" he asked, suddenly vicious. "Well, you're not so high and mighty yourself. You're the editor of some stupid little gossip column – mostly about the football team just so that you can make yourself feel better."   
  
"Well, at least I'll have something to show after high school," I flared back. "What have you got? A trophy and a few medals?" I was so angry with him that I was shaking. How dare he attack me?   
  
He pushed off the wall, coming towards me. "At least I'm not hiding from life behind words!" he shouted.   
  
"No, you'd rather hit them head-on, make as much mess as you can, then move on." I pushed off as well and got into his face. "Except you'll use athletics as an excuse for everything. You're bright, Whitney, but you use athletics as an excuse not to be. If you tried half as hard in school as you did in athletics, you'd be brilliant!"   
  
"Don't preach to me like some parent or like you even know me! You don't!"   
  
"Fine!" I threw up my hands and spun on my heel. "I'm leaving!" I went to the stairs then turned around. "No, wait, this is my house. You leave!" I walked to the door.   
  
He came after me, forcing me against the door and getting into my face. "You're just afraid."   
  
"Of what?" I asked defiantly.   
  
He smirked. "Of getting close to anyone. You'll take it so far then push until they leave. Well, forget it, I'm staying."   
  
"You can't stay!" I shrieked.   
  
He looked unimpressed. "Why not?"  
  
"Because it's my house!"   
  
He pulled back. "Give me one real reason and I'll leave. One good reason."   
  
I glared at him. I didn't have a good reason. 'My abs aren't perfect' is not a good reason.   
  
"Come on, Chloe... I'm waiting." He crossed his arms across his chest.   
  
He looked so smug and smirk that I wanted to smack it off his face. Well, then I would do the next best thing. "Fine! You want answers? Fine! My arms aren't sculpted, my abs aren't completely flat, my legs aren't long and slim and I'M NOT LANA LANG!" I screamed at him then turned and ran.   
  
He had good reflexes, I had to give him that. I made it halfway to the stairs before he caught me around the waist, spun me around and planted one on me. I fought but he wouldn't let go.   
  
"I'm not going to let you close yourself off, Chloe," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. "I won't." Then he kissed me again.   
  
¤¤¤  
  
Later, I watched him sleep and wanted to wake him up, wanted to poke him until he answered my questions. I wanted to know about the Lana factor. Obviously, he still loved her because they were still technically together. Did he think about her all the time? Was he thinking about her when he was with me? Even if he didn't love her, I knew she had a pull on him. She had it on all guys, it seemed. I just wished that he didn't tug every time I was around.   
  
I slid out of bed, grabbed pjs and walked down to make coffee and watch the rain. It reflected my mood exactly, somber and miserable yet a bit of hope dwindling at the bottom.   
  
Taking my mug of coffee to the window, I curled up on the window seat and leaned my head against the glass.   
  
Why did I go for the most unavailable men? I mean, most turned out to be mutants, Clark had a permanent infatuation with Lana and now Whitney, who was probably still in love with Lana. I just couldn't win.   
  
My eyes focused on the mirror image of the window as Whitney came in, his face looking clouded. I turned and looked at him, wanting to run away. Instead, I froze. What was he going to say? He came up behind me. "Hey."   
  
"Hi," I replied softly, turning back to the window. What was I going to say?  
  
"Listen, Chloe..." He trails off.   
  
'What is he going to say?' I wonder, a million possibilities going through my head,  
  
This was a mistake.   
  
I'm completely in love with you.  
  
I'm just doing this to get my girlfriend back.   
  
I'm just a horny bastard.   
  
I just needed some emotional comfort and since my girlfriend is off with Clark, you'll have to do.  
  
He's not saying anything. "What?" Okay, that came out a little more blunt that it should have. But he's just standing there staring at me...   
  
"I don't know."   
  
I study him. I feel like I should be smoking or something... "You don't know what?"   
  
"What's going on. I mean, I love Lana. At least I thought I did until I got to the funeral and she was just ogling Clark and I didn't care. I just wanted to give up. My life has gone to shit pretty much. I just want a normal life again..." He was babbling but that was okay. I could handle a babbling Whitney Fordman. "...and I know that it's over, we both do, so why are we trying to keep up pretenses? I don't get it. We just don't love each other anymore. I don't know if she ever really loved me anyway... But now I'm confused because of you."   
  
I arched an eyebrow. "Because of me?"   
  
"Yeah, I thought I had you all figured out. You were the nosy, nerdy little reporter who liked to expose anything she could get her hands on and just as long as it got her a good scoop, she didn't care who it hurt. I thought you were difficult and moody and a brat. But you're not really, are you Chloe?"   
  
I didn't like his sudden insights. "Yes, I am."   
  
He came closer. "No, you're not. I can tell when I kiss you and when I'm close to you, your defenses get dropped." He moved until we were inches apart and I could feel the heat of him. "I don't know why this happened, Chloe, but I'm glad it did..."   
  
I wanted to push him away. I wanted to hit him. He didn't know anything. I put my hands up to stop him but somehow they ended up tangled with his and he was leaning forward and kissing me. And I liked it.

¤ ¤ ¤

So, what do you think? Let me know...


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Sorry it took so long… writer's block sucks!

I walk through the school hallway, noticing that everything looks a little different after you have sex. I mean, it's funny because nothing's different but at the same everything's different. The colours a little brighter, yet a little more softened at the edges. Maybe it's just the endorphins or the fuzzy feeling I still have inside but I _feel_ different.

I look up and there he is.

Whitney Fordman, standing and talking to some football friends. He stops talking when he spots me and it's one of those dream-like states when everything slows down and you are the only two people in the world and nothing else exists. And then I'm past and gone and it breaks. The hallway gets busy and loud again. But I can still feel him watch me walk away as his friends wave a hand in from of his face to get his attention back.

I haven't told anyone and neither has he. It's been four days and outwardly nothing has changed. Well, Whitney and Lana broke up, she's been spending a lot of time with Clark, everyone knows that they're secretly together but won't admit it because of poor Whitney… how it would break his heart. But I don't think he really cares. Well, I know that he cares because he says that he does. You can't just erase the person you've loved for the past four years away… believe me, I've tried.

So, he's still in love with Lana and I'm still in love with Clark but we've found common ground for our little whatever we have to grow.

I get to my locker and start to put my stuff away. I have first period off and I have things to do in the Torch.

Oh, great. Here comes Pete… He's got the 'concerned friend' face down really good.

"Hey Chloe," he says in that nice voice that people get when they think something's wrong and if they talked at a regular decibel, it might set you off and you'd cry or explode or something.

"Hey Pete," I reply as chipper as I can. "What's up?"

"How are you?"

"Fine." I notice his face and shrug. "Really, Pete… I'm fine. I know that Clark and Lana are getting together and frankly I'm fine with it. I mean, I've realized that Clark is always going to love her and I can't do anything about that so I've moved on."

He nods slowly. He doesn't believe me.

"Seriously… I'm fine. What can I do or say to prove that I'm fine?" I grab the stuff I need from my locker and look at him. Or rather past him at the six-foot blond quarterback making his way down the hallway towards his science class, whose door happens to be ten feet to the left of my locker.

Pete shrugs. "Okay, I believe you (which he doesn't but that's fine…). See you in French." He grins at me and walks off, probably feeling better that he was able to be the good friend and help me from my funk. He turns the corner and then the hallway is empty with the exception of me and Whitney.

The problem is that I don't know how to act around Whitney. The problem with sleeping with someone means that there's nothing more that you can do. You've skipped all the other parts and are at the pinnacle of your 'relationship' (if you were in a relationship – which we are not).

He stops just in front of me, out of reach so if someone were to walk by it would look like we were having a normal conversation where he would be asking me for a pencil or paper or something equally as generic. "Hi."

I try not to smile, try not to get that glowy feeling I get when I think of him. "Hi," I say casually back.

The second bell rings and he hesitates for a second then leans forward and kisses me. "I'm late for class. Meet me in the newspaper office at lunch," he says brusquely, walking quickly off to science.

I watch him disappear into the class, fingers brushing over my lips lightly, then turn and go to the newspaper office.

Whitney will always be confusing. I mean, he has this image in school that he has to keep up. It's kind of crumbling right now but it's all he has at the moment, all that he has to hold onto. I think that's why he wants to keep our relationship, or whatever we have, quiet. I mean, it's not fair but if I want to be with him at all I have to let him figure this out himself. If I were to demand him to acknowledge the fact that we might have something, he'd probably freak out, run away, and never talk to me again.

ß ß ß

It's lunch and I start towards the newspaper office, wondering what it is that Whitney would want to talk about.

He's quitting football and wants to join the newspaper.

He's moving far far away so that he doesn't have to deal with the soap opera square that is me, him, Lana, and Clark

He doesn't like me and wants to go back to thinking that I'm an annoying nosy reporter that's trying to screw the football team over and I can go back to thinking that he's a dumb jock

He wants some sex

Of all the possible explanations, my mind always comes back to the last one. It's a classic mistake that girls make. If they give it up once, the guy's going to think that he can get it whenever he wants.

The scariest part of my thinking right now is the fact that I wouldn't really mind if that were the case.

God, I'm turning into a hormonally-driven teenager… scary.

"Hey, Chloe, you're going the wrong way. Cafeteria's this way…" Pete calls as he sees me.

"I have to finish up an article for the Torch. I'll catch up with you later," I call back.

His face falls and I know what he's thinking. He's thinking that I'm going to the newspaper office to eat lunch by myself and cry because I can't go to the cafeteria because I don't want to see Clark and Lana together and I can't face people because I don't want to let them see me cry when I see said couple together. "D'you need some help?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine. I'll be there in a few minutes. Save me a seat." There. Maybe he'll feel better thinking I'm really coming later. Which I may be. I have no idea as to how long this talk's going to take.

"Okay, see you in there."

And then he's gone and I'm sailing into familiar territory that is the Torch's office.

Whitney doesn't show up for five minutes. I try to keep myself busy by looking things up on the computer for my next article. I'm munching on an apple when he enters, looking out of place.

"Are you lost?" I can't help but snark light-heartedly to him.

He smiles wryly. "Yeah, I'm looking for a smart, beautiful, and nice girl. Can you help me?"

"I'll let you know if I see one…" I trail off. He's staring at me and it's making me lose my train of thought. I shuffle papers on my desk to distract me. "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

He clears his throat. "My mom's selling the store."

"That's good, right?" I had to tread carefully. "You guys can move on." I flinch. "I didn't mean that you should move on and forget him but…" I trail off again. "I'll shut up before I make it worse."

He shrugs. "That's okay. I hated it anyway... It was my dad's pride and joy… But the other thing is…well…we're moving to Metropolis. See, my mom thought it would be a good idea so that me and my sister would get away from the pain that's here and she said since there was nothing here for us really that it would be better if we went…"

I nod, close my eyes, and turn back towards the computer.. "Sure, why not? Makes perfect sense. You guys need to be able to have a normal life and there's no way that you can have that here…" Inside, I wanted to cry. He was leaving? Now? Kind of a long-drawn out wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am?

"Hey, Chloe…" He takes the edge of the chair and spins me around towards him. "What's wrong? We can still see each other. Metropolis is only forty-five minutes away… It's not like I'm going to Russia…"

I try to blink the tears away and smile at him. "I know, I know… I'm just being a stupid girl. Y'know… emotional and all…"

He opens his arms and I practically throw myself into them, my momentum knocking us both onto the couch.

He brushes my hair back from my tear-stained face, kissing my forehead. "And here I thought you were this intrepid reporter, Sullivan… You couldn't even figure me out?"

I shrug, burying my head into his shoulder. "You turned out to be a lot more complicated than I thought, Fordman…"

He's stroking my cheek and his other hand is slipping down from the small of my back to the exposed skin between my jeans and t-shirt. He leans forward and catches my mouth with his.

I grab his hand as it moves up the skin of my back. "Whitney!"

He pulls away, studying my face. "What?"

"We can't just-"

And then he's kissing me again.

Well, what do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

"Whitney, I don't think this is a good idea…" I say, hypocritically as my hands slide up his arms to tangle in his gorgeous hair. I have this thing about guys' hair – I love to run my fingers through a nice head of hair. I mean, have you seen Clark's hair? It's beaut…

He chuckles. "C'mon, Chlo… it's lunch and no one's going to walk in because they're all either at lunch or they don't even know where this place is because no one but you come in here…"

"Hey!" I hit him, pretending to be angry but we both know I'm not.

"So, just enjoy the moment… live a little." He pulls me back down for a kiss.

I know that I should and no is going to come… it's true. I'm practically the only one who comes in here. Clark and Lana have been MIA because they're too busy checking out each others eyes to see anything else in this world. Pete's been busy with football and girls – the usual… So, yeah, I deserve this. I smile. It's kinda cool. I've fantasized about having my boyfriend in the Torch office. It's quite the perfect place actually… secluded in the west wing of the school, usually locked, really private. Perfect place for a tryst…

Lana was glad that she'd looked into the window before pushing the door to the Torch open. From her vantage point, she could see Chloe straddling the lap of a certain ex-boyfriend of hers and grinning down at him as he grinned up at her. She wondered if she should feel more jealous than she did but she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Whitney had become more of a friend than a boyfriend some time ago and she was glad that he was moving on. Chloe Sullivan was about the last person that Lana would think he would end up with but at the same time it made complete sense. They were both determined, driven, smart people who had been hurt by Lana herself. She momentarily cringed thinking how terribly she'd treated Whitney and how her and Clark's relationship had hurt Chloe and would continue to hurt Chloe but pushed it aside. If they were happy then she was happy. Behind her, Clark shifted.

"What's wrong, Lana? Is it locked? I have keys if you forgot yours…"

She turned and looked up into his naïve eyes. This would drive Clark nuts. He'd probably storm in and freak on the both of them. No, she'd shelter him from this until the couple decided that he should know. It wasn't her place and it certainly wasn't his to judge them and so she'd help in any way she could. "Actually, I think I forgot those papers in Chem class. And I'm starving." She smiled up at him in a way that she knew would melt him. "Let's just go to the caf…"

He nodded, good-naturedly. "Okay." Sliding an arm around her, they started off.

She glanced back, momentarily feeling a tweak of jealousy as she remembered the look on Whitney's face as he looked up at Chloe. He'd never looked at her in that way. She toyed with the idea of spilling it, of letting Clark go back and charge in, insults flying, anger flashing. Then she waved it off. She'd chosen Clark over Whitney and that was her decision. She had to stick with it. She couldn't have both. It wasn't right.

I open my locker to grab my stuff for home and was greeted with a bouquet of daisies. I grab my books and the flowers, close my locker and started out to the parking lot towards my car. I can't get rid of this stupid grin that's plastered on my face. If anything, it's getting bigger… It's starting to get really annoying. How could one person be so full of happiness for so long? Shaking my head, I start off towards home.

Dad, of course, isn't home. He's probably be working until ten, just like every other day. I don't mind though. I love being home alone. I check the mail; put the flowers into a vase and start towards my room with them under one arm and the newest copy of Time under the other and a cup of coffee in one hand. And then the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"What are you doing right now?"

"Hi to you too, Whitney…"

He laughs. "Hi. What are you doing right now?"

"Getting ready to relax with my Time and my beautiful flowers from a secret admirer… why? What are you doing right now?"

"Stalking."

"What? Where are you?"

"Me to know, you to find out… Big mug for such a small girl…"

"What's the pattern, Whitney?" I put down the flowers and the magazine.

"Flowers. Green ones and blue ones and red ones."

I glance down. And they were. I peer out the window with a suspicious expression. "I can see you in the bushes." Even though I couldn't.

"No you can't."

"What am I doing right now then?" I wave.

"Waving. Boring, Chloe, very boring."

"Fine. What am I doing now?" And before I can think twice about it, I lift my shirt quickly up and down. I smirk at the silence then turn bright red. Across the street Mrs. Callahan was looking out her window, a sour look on her face. She shakes her head at me and turned to look down the street. I wrench the curtains shut. "Oh God."

"Nice, Sullivan, very nice. Now let me in." The doorbell rang a few seconds later.

I open it, face red, clutching the phone. "Well, I just flashed the entire street and caused a few heart attacks."

He grins, coming in and kicking off his shoes. "It was worth it… did you like the flowers?"

I stand on tiptoe and kiss him. "I loved them. How did you get them in there?"

Whitney smirks. "I fed them in through the vents…" Then after I elbow him, "I sweet talked the secretary into giving me your combination."

"Should I be worried?"

"Well, if I suddenly get the urge to get with sixty year-old women then yes but until then I think you'll be okay…" He slides an arm around me and we start towards the kitchen.

"Well, thank god. I was really getting worried for a minute there…"

He shrugs. "Well, I'll let you know if it ever gets worse."

"Great."

He stops me in front of the stairs. "Okay, we have to talk…"

"Whoa, Fordman, getting serious on me?" I joke, half-serious. To be honest, I was scared. I knew this was coming… the whole 'I'm moving' talk had been brushed over, we'd ignored it with the help of teenage hormones.

He nods. "Yeah, I'm going to have to again." We sit down on the stairs and he takes my hand. "I need to know what you're thinking about us, Chlo. I know that we're just at the beginning but I need to know that there's something to begin in order to have something to end…"

"Okay."

"I'm going to Metropolis in a month and I don't know what we have here, Chloe, but I want to find out. And I know that sounds cheesy but there you go…"

"Okay."

"And I'd like you to say something other than okay."

I lean on him. "I want to find out too."

A slow smile spreads on his face. "Okay."

"Okay." And I lean forward to kiss him.

ßßß

"I miss you too…" I roll over on the bed, switching the phone to my other ear. "I can't believe that I'm graduating next month. I'm so freaked, Whitney… What am I going to do with my life?"

His laughter filtered through softly, his voice comforting. "What are you talking about, Sullivan? You would die if you didn't figure out every secret conspiracy in the world. You're going to be an amazing journalist and you know it. You're one of the lucky ones…"

I sigh. "Yeah, in high school. That's peanuts."

"Don't even try to pull that with me. I know you and you're obsessed with it and you'll do it if it kills you."

I grin. "Yeah, well… I'm trying to be a normal confused teenager in the last days of her high school career. Don't ruin my scene."

I could hear someone in the background, calling Whitney. "Sorry to cut this short, Chlo, but I have to get to practice. I call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Miss you."

"Miss you too. Bye."

"Bye." I hung up and leaned back against the pillows.

ßßß

"So I got a new job. I start the first of November…"

"That's awesome! I'm so proud of you, Whitney!" I wave off the waiter and take a sip of coffee.

It's three years later and I'm eating sushi at a sushi bar in Chinatown in downtown Gotham City. It's my lunch break from Wayne Communications, where I got a job as a publicity advisor for Wayne Incorporated. Whitney was still in Metropolis and not really liking it. Our relationship was odd. I mean, we're not seeing each other but I haven't been with anyone else in the past two years. I just threw myself into my work and didn't worry about relationships. But I still pined for him… "Mr. Wayne gave me next week off for Thanksgiving so I was wondering what you were doing? Like, if you're going home or back to Smallville or whatever…"

"I was thinking of maybe stopping by Smallville to see the old gang, maybe see you?"

"I'd like that…" A smile spread on my face.

"When are you going back?"

"Not 'til Saturday. I have some stuff to do for Mr. Wayne and I won't be finished 'til then."

I could see him in my mind, sitting in his apartment, flipping through the mail or looking out the window at the busy streets below. "Well, how about I drive down there and pick you up on my way?"

I laughed. "It's not on your way, Whitney…" I chided gently.

"I know but we could pretend it is…"

"Okay."

ßßß

"So what's this new job that you're all hush hush about?"

Whitney looks over at me mischievously. "You'll find out tonight at dinner. If your head doesn't explode in the meantime with curiosity…"

I nudge him playfully. "Jerk."

He grabs my hand. "You love me."

"Yeah, well… I blame the Kryptonite rocks…"

We walk up the path to my house where my dad is waiting.

He sticks out a hand to Whitney. "Whitney, haven't seen you in awhile…"

Whitney shakes his hand. "No, sir. Haven't seen you in awhile either."

"Nothing bringing you around now that Chloe's gone, huh?" Gabe grins as we blush. "Well, come in, come in. The turkey's not going to cook itself…"

We follow him into a busy kitchen, packed with all sorts of partially made cooking: pie shells, the turkey, vegetables.

"Where should we start?" Whitney asks, smiling. Chloe and her dad were exactly the same. When he'd gone to visit Chloe, her kitchen had looked the exact same plus a few takeout boxes of Chinese scattered around.

Gabe looked around hopelessly. "Uh…"

"I'll do the pie," I volunteer.

"And I'll do the turkey," Whitney offers.

ßßß

As we sit down for dinner, Whitney stands up and clinks his glass with his spoon. "Okay, before we have this wonderful meal, I'd like to announce something." He looks down at me and smiles one of those special smiles that he only reserves for me before kneeling beside me. "Chloe Sullivan, I'd like to ask you a really important question and even though I'm pretty sure of your answer I'm still going to be iffy. I've got a job working for Wayne Securities in Gotham City and I knew I wanted to be with you ever since that day at my father's funeral when I saw you standing across from me. You had so much pain on your face that I wanted to protect you. So, now I'm asking Chloe and I'm wondering what your answer's going to be? Will you let me take care of you and cook for you and protect you from all the bad things in the world that I can?"

I stare at him, shocked. "Damn, Fordman, you are a fantastic speech-maker. You should go in with Hallmark…"

He shrugs. "Everyone needs a useless talent." Then he pulls a box from his pocket and opens it, showing a simple silver band with diamonds set in it at intervals. "What'll it be, Sullivan?"

I smile. "Yes, Whitney. Yes I will…"

ßßß

"Whit, I need the newspaper! I want to see if they got my quotes right!" I call up the stairs as I'm wrestling with our four year-old. "And Abby has to get to school!" I then focus my attention on the mischievous blond trying to wriggle out of my arms and out of her snowsuit. "Abigail Fordman, your father's going to be down soon and he's not going to be happy that he has to wait for you to get ready before he drops you off…"

She giggles and grins up at someone behind me. "Daddy doesn't mind, do you Daddy?"

I turn and he's wearing a matching grin. "Not funny, Fordman…"

He hoists Milo, our one year-old further up on his hip. "C'mon Abby, stop terrorizing your mother and get ready for school…"

"Okay." She pulls on her snowsuit and trundles off to find her boots.

"How do you do that?" I ask, standing up for a kiss.

He plants one on me then passes off Milo. "Fordman charm. Always works on the ladies…" He hugs me then kisses my temple. "I'm off. I'll get groceries on my way home if you can pick up Abby…"

"Okay." I go out to the front hall after him watch as he scoops her up and growls.

She shrieks and hits him playfully, giggling uncontrollably. "Stop Daddy stop!"

"Alright, alright," he concedes. "Kiss your Mom and we'll get going." He tilts her down to me and she holds out her arms.

"Have fun at school" I hug her and she gives me and Milo a sloppy kiss each, making Milo wave his arms around and shriek. I bounced him up and down until he settled and then leaned towards Whitney. "Have fun at work."

He kisses me and both kids make happy sounds.

"Ewww, stop!" Abby called.

"See you later…" he adds as they leave, smiling.

I turn back and take Milo into my 'study' as Whitney calls it. "And you and I are going to do some work today, honey." I put him down in his crib and gave him some toys and settled down at my desk to type.

The end…

ßßß

Well, what did you think?


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